McDonald’s Approved

James, my restaurant manager, comes up to me and points at my shoes.
“These are not acceptable shoes. They are not McDonald’s approved,” he says.

I know my shoes are not McDonald’s approved. I’ve been told that since I got them, which was at least two years ago, but I’ve still continued to wear them. However, now it seemed my rebellious shoe reign had come to end as James comes back out of the office with a piece of paper featuring seven different shoes.

“These shoes are McDonald’s approved,” he gestures to the sheet, “It’s all in the heel. You cannot slip in these shoes.” He then points at my thin, fraying, canvas shoes, “These shoes are dangerous, you can slip in those.”

He is, of course, correct. I have slipped many a time in these shoes. One time I slipped really comically in front of a dozen customers as I ran to stop the frappe machine from spraying everyone with water. And when I say comically, I mean it was in slow motion and my legs went straight up in the air and I landed perfectly on my butt. It was one of those awkward moments where everyone’s like, ‘Do I laugh?’

“McDonald’s will take the cost of these shoes out of your wages for the next six weeks,” James continued. “Look, Viraj is wearing them! Ashiana is wearing some! I’m wearing some! Everyone is getting these shoes.”

Shelley came over to look at the paper with me. We spent like ten minutes deliberating over which ones to get. The last two were the only ones worth getting.

“Those look cool,” she said, pointing at the shoes I was tempted to get, “But those ones look like school shoes.”

We both laugh.
“I got those shoes,” said James.
We both stopped laughing. “Oh, sorry.”

I point at the ones Shelley and I both want, “How much are these?”
“A hundred and twelve dollars,” James replies.
“What?!” I reply, “No way!”
“They’re good, last you two to three years.”

I pointed at my own very worn shoes, “So have these, and they were five dollars!”

“But they’re not McDonald’s approved. It’s all in the heel. The heel is safe and stops you from slipping.”

The conversation was stopped abruptly as a new wave of customers came in. I spent the remainder of my shift musing over my new problem. I reckon I only have six weeks in which I can still get away with wearing my $5 Kmart shoes. But I’m not paying more than $50 on shoes I’m only really gonna wear at work. I work at McDonald’s for goodness’ sake! It’s not like I’m made of money.

I’ve made this plan to go browsing for shoes, find a cheap pair and take a photo of their heels and check if James is okay with them. Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. Then I won’t lose out on $112.

I’m going back to Kmart.